My warped dreams, my son's thoughts, and my wife's solution

I've had a few recurring dreams in my lifetime, but none were as terrifying to me as Cookie Monster with teeth.



From the age of six through eight, my dreams were visited by an evil Cookie Monster with fangs. He had the same ravenous appetite that he has in Sesame Street, but instead of cookies he longed for the taste of human flesh. Every single time we went through the dream, the monster was always after me, and Big Bird was my only companion. The rest of the world seemed to be more or less abandoned. It occurs to me now that maybe there had been some sort of apocalypse that mutated Cookie Monster into the flesh-feeding monstrosity that he had become.




Cookie Monster never actually caught me in this dream, but only because I sheltered myself in a jail cell - his teeth couldn't bite through steel. But the dream always ended with Big Bird and myself locked in a cell and trapped by Cookie Monster, who seemed content to wait us out. I never figured out how to escape from the situation.



I bring this up now not just as an insight to my tortured childhood psyche, but because my son mentioned the fanged Cookie Monster to me completely out of the blue.



Normally at night he talks about a big bad wolf trying to blow our house down. This ends with his teddy scaring the wolf away and my son calling for the wolf to come back soon. But one night he started to talk about monsters instead. And he started specifically talking about a mean Cookie Monster with sharp teeth.



Now, I have never mentioned this dream of mine to him. I mean, who wants to tell their kid that the lovable doofus on Sesame Street is actually my personal Freddie Kreuger? So that leaves me wondering: can a recurring dream be biological in nature? Is this all coincidence, or has my son somehow inherited these dreams from me?



The upshot to all of this is that my wife gave me a way out that I can share if my son is actually having these dreams: sing Cookie Monster to sleep. I don't have much of a singing voice, but Big Bird is right there, isn't he? And then, once he's asleep, I can slip out alive...or bash his head in with a shovel and end the nightmare - it depends on how violent I'm feeling in these dreams.



Behind this rambling discussion of old nightmares, I do have a point. That point is this: if the woman you live with has the patience and kindness to not only listen to your childhood nightmares involving one of Jim Henson's creations but also the creativity and intelligence to come up with the solution you never could, I highly recommend marrying that woman and having children with her. If my son inherited my nightmares, he will also hopefully have inherited his mother's ability to solve the problem.



Charlie's newest novel, Greystone Valley, is heavy on whimsy and light on his warped muppet-related dreams.



Pic: Sarah Brooks
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